


the right time

by tmylm



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, bechloe - Freeform, pp3, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22362982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: Two pivotal days, four months apart. PP3 setting.Aka:When Chloe's Tinder date bails, Beca decides to fill in.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 41
Kudos: 387





	the right time

**Author's Note:**

> A fic to go along with [this gif set](https://chloebeale.tumblr.com/post/190386830515/bechloe-au-when-chloes-tinder-date-bails-beca).

**_September 18th._ **

It happens by accident, it really does. At least, that is what Beca is telling herself. For years now—almost five of them, to be a little more specific—she has known there is something very.. _different_ between she and Chloe, something that can be considered more than friendship. That is not to say that it has been a romantic something; Beca has had a boyfriend for most of the time she and Chloe have known one another. Beca is not a cheater, and Chloe has always been respectful. However, there have been long looks and lingering stares, moments shared between the two of them where the air has grown thick with _something_ else.

There was that one time, during their retreat in Beca’s senior year, where Chloe had commented about wishing she had experimented a little more in college, and Beca had brushed off the fleeting image it’d caused in her mind of the two of them with a remark about Chloe being weird. Or the time when they had first moved into their one bedroomed New York apartment, and Amy had instantly called the only bed, leaving Beca and Chloe to share the pull-out in the living room. Beca had whined petulantly, but there had been a certain sense of elation within her at the very idea of sharing such a close proximity with Chloe every night, something she did not want to question.

Still, she and Chloe have always had their boundaries—as much as is possible for Chloe Beale, anyway—because they have never been available at the same time. Not until now, anyway.

Beca wanted it to work out between she and Jesse. She thinks she wanted it to, anyway. But the idea of long distance had been daunting. It was perhaps the threat of being so far from one another that had ultimately brought their relationship to its definitive end. And while Beca is upset—understandably so; her relationship with Jesse had been her longest to date—she finds that she has made her peace with their amicable decision to split much more easily than she had ever imagined she would.

Or so she thinks, anyway.

It isn’t until Beca finds herself alone for the first time, sitting with her feet tucked neatly beneath her body, and scrolling idly through her social media feeds that she realizes she is perhaps not dealing as well with the breakup as she had at first assumed. Her gaze scans over an image of Jesse and an unfamiliar blonde, her arms around his neck and her body pressed tightly up against his, and if the upload is anything to go by, it seems that Jesse has moved on already. Maybe Beca should, too.

It is not often that Beca cries. Even in private, when she is alone with her thoughts, she tends to force back the waterworks and find some way to distract herself. Perhaps it’s the wine she has been drinking—not her first choice of beverage, but either Amy or Chloe had left it lying around with only one glassful taken from it, so Beca had figured why not?—or perhaps she has just not really taken the time to deal with it all properly yet. Either way, Beca finds that there is a lone tear rolling silently down her cheek, something she wipes away with the sleeve of her sweater just in time for Chloe to walk in the front door without prior warning.

Blue eyes train on her instantly, and Chloe’s natural smile is replaced quickly by a look of sheer concern.

“Bec?” Chloe says, her purse dropped immediately onto the table by the door. She practically floats across the small room, her green scrubs plastered with various images of cartoon corgis wearing glasses something Beca would normally find oddly charming, but that she all but ignores right now, until she is perching cautiously onto the couch beside Beca. Her tone is gentle and comforting, the feeling of her soft palm cupping Beca’s shoulder so familiar, so instantly relaxing. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Beca lies, the choked up edge to her voice betraying her right away. She lets out a small laugh, suddenly realizing how pathetic the whole sight must be. Her eyes roll, and she finds herself holding out her phone toward Chloe, screen unlocked and displaying that same image of Jesse and the unnamed blonde to have caused what she deems to be an entirely pathetic reaction. Chloe takes it, and Beca notices the way her shoulders slump as she analyzes the image before her.

“It’s probably not like that,” Chloe says quickly, though as Beca glances up toward her, she sees a look of sympathy etched across her face. Chloe’s small smile is not a joyful one, not the one Beca is so used to seeing. It is flecked with sadness, with a tone Beca would liken to a physical representation of the way she herself is feeling. Chloe continues in a soft voice, words almost cautious sounding. “I thought you were doing okay with all of that.”

“I am, that’s the thing,” Beca says, taking the phone back quickly, though it is all but forgotten about as she drops it gently into her lap, focus now on Chloe. (It is not a new thing, for Chloe to pull all of her focus, but again, Beca chooses not to question that.) “It’s just that… I don’t know, I really am okay with us breaking up. We’d both started distancing a while back. I guess it’s just the thought of starting over? I don’t know, it’s weird.”

As far as Beca knows, Chloe has never had a serious relationship. She has had plenty of flings, plenty of casual hookups. But never anything concrete. Regardless, she nods her head gently, empathetically, and Beca can see the way she is holding back a sigh. “I understand,” Chloe promises, her hand trailing softly from Beca’s shoulder and down toward her hand. She never breaks contact, and it is such a natural instinct for Beca to part her fingers for Chloe to lace hers easily through them.

“It’s okay, though.” Chloe’s free hand lifts upward to brush the remaining liquid from beneath Beca’s eye, and Beca can’t help the way she tilts her face just a little bit into Chloe’s gentle touch. “You’re twenty-three, it’s not like it’s suddenly all over for you.”

The reassurance is appreciated, but causes Beca to release another small laugh, head nodding slowly in response. Chloe simply smiles the smallest yet somehow most comforting of smiles, fingers squeezing almost protectively onto Beca’s.

“I’m gonna go change out of my scrubs, okay? Then I’ll be right back. We can watch a movie or something.”

Beca doesn’t like movies. Honestly, she has never liked them. She finds that they are always so slow to get started, and that she has grown bored before anything can actually happen. Regardless, she nods her head in agreement, because watching a movie with Chloe does not mean staring at the television screen. It means the two of them cuddling up together on the couch, Chloe curled into the corner while Beca lays comfortably against her, and the movie is simply background noise for their ongoing conversation. It is always so easy with Chloe, and it’s something Beca has perhaps taken for granted before now. She tells herself that she won’t, though, not anymore.

And she doesn’t. She doesn’t take it for granted when Chloe returns, this time wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater, wine glass in hand. She pours the remainder of the wine bottle’s contents into her glass, and curls comfortably into the corner of the couch, the same way she always does. Beca does not take it for granted when Chloe lifts her arm to invite her in, and Beca slides easily into her side, instantly comforted by the familiar warmth of Chloe’s body against her own.

“You’re gonna find someone, you know?” Chloe hums into the comfortable silence between them, free hand blindly searching for Beca’s. Their fingers lace so easily, just like always, and the fact that Beca has never before felt as comforted as she does right now does not pass her by.

“Yeah?” Beca questions, watery gaze down on her almost empty wine glass.

“Definitely,” Chloe nods, her gentle heartbeat rhythmic against Beca’s back. “You’re amazing, Beca. I’m not the only one who sees that.”

It’s instinct, the way Beca turns to look upward, gaze cast over her shoulder. Everything about Chloe is so familiar. From the way her body feels as Beca leans against her, to the scent wafting from her long red curls. Her strawberry scented shampoo is almost overpowering, but it is so familiarly _Chloe_ , and Beca finds that she takes an inexplicable level of comfort in that, too. Her voice is so gentle, almost coddling, and Beca cannot help but note that there is nothing more familiar to her than those ocean blue eyes, the ones currently cast down onto her face.

“You see it?” Beca asks, her own volume quieting some.

“Of course I do,” Chloe promises, her soft smile so sincere. Beca realizes quickly that she is studying it, that her gaze is drawn so naturally in by Chloe’s lips. It is not for the first time, Beca notes.

There is a stillness that follows, an air of silence, of something familiar to Beca. She has experienced it with Chloe before, but she has always forced herself away from it, known that it just… It wasn’t right. But she is allowed to feel it now. She is allowed to be drawn in the way she is by the curve of Chloe’s lips. It surprises her, however, that she is the one to physically lean in, to close the small, safe gap between them. She’s the one to release her grip on Chloe’s hand, and to instead reach up to settle her palm delicately against Chloe’s warm cheek, until all too suddenly her lips are pressing against Chloe’s. It is an experience they have never shared before, but that Beca senses is somehow so familiar, too.

It surprises her further that, despite the briefest moment of hesitation, she feels Chloe’s soft lips pressing back against her own in return.

And it’s an accident, it really is. The way Beca forces herself away to set both she and Chloe’s glasses down on the floor, then shifts her body to move closer to Chloe, it’s an accident. Same as the way Beca leans back in, their lips reconnecting so easily. It’s all accidental; it’s fast and it’s from nowhere, but Beca has no desire to pull away.

It’s the timing that doesn’t work for them, because the next morning, when they wake up beside one another in their shared bed the way they have both grown so used to over the past few months, there is a look in Chloe’s eyes that Beca doesn’t recognize, but that somehow breaks her heart before Chloe has even had the chance to say anything.

“Do you feel better today?” Chloe asks with subtle caution, and Beca wonders why that is her first question, why she doesn’t immediately broach the subject of the heated makeout session the two had shared the evening prior.

“Uh, yeah,” Beca begins, head nodding slowly. “Um, last night—”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence, not before Chloe gently shakes her head, so seamlessly cutting her off.

“You were upset,” Chloe states, her tone both cautious still, yet somehow matter-of-fact. She shoots Beca the smallest of smiles, though unlike last night, this one does not reach her eyes. “About Jesse,” Chloe continues, “And it makes sense. You just broke up, Bec.”

Beca tries to interject, to add in her two cents, though Chloe is soon sitting upright, sleeves of her sweater pulled down almost protectively over her hands. Those same soft hands that’d gently palmed Beca’s cheeks not twelve hours ago. She shakes her head, and Beca’s heart sinks before Chloe can even continue.

“It’s not the right time.”

**_January 22nd — Late afternoon._ **

It’s not like Beca _means_ to look at Chloe’s phone. It’s just that it’s right there beside her, and honestly, Beca isn’t really thinking properly. She isn’t thinking about anything really. Her ears are plugged with the wireless earphones her father gifted her for Christmas, and she is absentmindedly listening (a loose term really) to music as she picks at a stray thread protruding from the comforter. If she is thinking about anything, in fact, it’s that maybe she can pull at it hard enough to cause a little damage, then that can be her way of getting rid of the ugly sheets Chloe has insisted they use for their shared bed.

(Their styles are very different, but Beca has found that she tends to just allow Chloe to get her way. Maybe it is in pursuit of a quiet life, or maybe it is something else entirely… But Beca won’t think about that. Not now.)

So, when Chloe’s phone screen lights up on the bed beside her, it is purely natural instinct for Beca’s gaze to shift briefly toward it. Her focus is immediately pulled in by the Tinder notification.

As of yet, Beca has managed to stay away from online dating of any kind. She had no use for it before college, and then she’d met Jesse during freshman year. Has she sometimes considered installing an app or two since their breakup? Yes, but she has never actually gone through with it. Mostly because the thought of forcing conversation with a stranger holds absolutely no appeal to her. There are other reasons, though they are not something Beca has opted to properly explore.

The banner up on Chloe’s phone screen right now says _Tinder_ , though, so apparently, her roommate—bedmate, technically—does not share Beca’s same disdain for the idea.

Nor those _other reasons_ , evidently.

Not that Beca is surprised, of course. Chloe could begin and hold a full conversation with a rock, Beca is sure of it. However, there is something almost unsettling about the idea of Chloe arranging casual hookups with strangers, though Beca knows it is not her place to say so. Nor to even think it, in fact.

Chloe is her best friend. That evening back in September, the one where Beca wasn’t feeling so good about she and Jesse’s breakup, and Chloe had been her source of comfort, it hadn’t meant anything. The way Beca’s heart had raced in a way that has begun to become increasingly familiar to her when in Chloe’s presence, it really had not meant anything. Like Chloe had said, it hadn’t been the right time. The notification on Chloe’s screen right now only proves that to Beca further.

She doesn’t know Chloe’s password. Not that she would do anything with it even if she did, but Beca has to admit, she is curious. A part of her wants to know who Chloe is talking to, who she deems acceptable to swipe.. whichever way is the good way for.

(Right? She thinks it’s right.)

Why she is so curious, Beca doesn’t really know, but it also doesn’t matter, because what Chloe does in her spare time—and who she does it with—is none of Beca’s business. So, she resigns herself to ignorance as Chloe’s screen fades to black. That doesn’t stop her curious gaze from flickering periodically toward it, though, until the sound of the running shower water comes to a stop, and Chloe eventually appears from their small bathroom, toned arms glistening with water droplets not yet caught by the absorbent fabric of the blue towel wrapped tightly around her body.

“What are you listening to?” Chloe asks conversationally, her tone its usual level of bright and bubbly, of the signature things that make up everything that is so familiarly Chloe Beale.

Truthfully, Beca is really not paying attention to the music flowing through her earbuds, though she takes a brief second to register the current song. “Chainsmokers,” she eventually responds with a brief shrug of her shoulder, pulling one of the buds from her ear. Her head tilts slightly, curious gaze inspecting Chloe momentarily, and her words flow without proper prior thought. “Date tonight?”

If the confused stare she shoots Beca’s way is any indication, the question seems to catch Chloe off guard. There is a hint of amusement threatening her lips, though Beca can see the way Chloe bites it back.

“You got a Tinder notification,” Beca shrugs, motioning toward Chloe’s phone on the bed beside her.

“You were looking at my phone?” Chloe questions, her subtle amusement still evident as she makes her way toward the bed. She perches herself softly down on the edge of the mattress, reaching for her phone.

“Not intentionally,” Beca promises. “I just saw the notification when it came through. I don’t know what the message actually says.”

Chloe’s gaze is down on her now unlocked screen. “I do have a date,” she says distractedly, thumbs quickly tapping out her response. Beca doesn’t mean to watch her, but she cannot help her curiosity. Regardless, she can’t see the screen, doesn’t know what Chloe is typing, nor what the incoming message had said.

“With who?”

“Some guy.”

It is unlike Chloe to keep the details to herself. She is normally so forthcoming, so open with.. well, _everything_. (Or at least, she used to be.) Apparently, she is keeping her cards close to her chest now, though, and Beca can’t help the way her dark brows tug together, her curiosity only growing stronger.

“Where are you going?”

“That Japanese place I like in Greenwich Village.”

There are plenty of Japanese restaurants in Greenwich Village, so perhaps the fact that Beca knows Chloe well enough to know exactly where she is talking about is indication that she perhaps pays a little too much attention sometimes. Regardless, Chloe is busy with her phone, and Beca can tell she doesn’t feel like divulging further information. Beca is not done asking questions, but finds herself simply nodding in response. If Chloe doesn’t want to talk, Beca isn’t going to force her.

Honestly, it has been very much like this lately. Ever since that evening in September, things have been a little strange between them. Beca doesn’t regret kissing Chloe. She will _never_ regret kissing Chloe, in fact. But the circumstances? She regrets those. She blames those for the fact that Chloe has been a little more standoffish with her ever since, that there has been something looming thickly in the air between them, something Beca does not recognize.

She blames that for the fact that Chloe is getting ready to go out on a Tinder date tonight, and that if things go well, maybe it could lead to something. It does not pass Beca by that, if that is the case, she will have missed out on her chance.

But Chloe is her best friend, that is all she is, so Beca shouldn’t be thinking about chances with her, not like that.

While Beca goes back to listening—sort of listening—to her music, and busies herself with her laptop, Chloe proceeds to flit around the apartment. She hums breezily to herself as she gets ready for her date, and Beca makes a conscious effort not to pay attention.

However, it becomes increasingly difficult to do so, the more time Chloe spends on fixing her makeup and on making herself look as distractingly beautiful as she does. Beca steals glances here and there, but for the most part, she does well to keep her gaze trained on her laptop screen. Right up until Chloe literally asks her to look at her, anyway.

“What do you think, this dress or this one?” Chloe’s voice chimes above the sound of Beca’s music. Beca can see her from the corner of her eye, see the way she is holding up her options, and finally Beca has to give in, to bring her gaze toward the sight of Chloe standing there in a matching bra and panties set, an admittedly pretty dress held in each hand.

Beca notes the soft waves Chloe has styled into her newly cut shoulder length hair, and refrains from making any kind of comment about how that is her favorite Chloe Beale hairstyle. She doesn’t realize she is taking a little too long to respond.

“Beca?” Chloe prompts, shaking the garments gently. “Which one?”

Beca’s gaze drifts between the two dresses; one purple, one green. She has seen Chloe wearing both of them before, and recalls that, in each of them, Chloe had looked incredible. Then again, Chloe always looks incredible, so it is really no surprise.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Beca shrugs, gaze moving deliberately back to her laptop screen. “Either.”

While she does not look back up, she can see the way Chloe’s stare is burning into her. In fact, she can practically _feel_ it. Beca very intentionally makes sure not to meet it.

“Thank you for the help,” Chloe says sarcastically, eventually discarding the green dress onto the bed.

“You’re welcome,” Beca mumbles, still without lifting her gaze.

If Beca really thinks about it, she knows she is being a brat. She also knows she has no right to be, though. She has no claim to Chloe, she has never tried to stake one. And until now, until that Tinder notification that Beca should not have even seen, she has been okay with the way things are. Had she wanted to explore things further following that one night in September? Sure, but like Chloe had said, it hadn’t been the right time. Perhaps it has never been the right time since, and Beca has been accepting of the fact. A part of her had just not expected Chloe to go looking elsewhere, that’s all. But, apparently, she had. Something she is well within her rights to do, in fact.

“Okay, what is your issue?” Chloe asks through a somewhat impatient sigh. She had disappeared briefly into the bathroom, at some point between then and now tugging on her purple dress, and she emerges with a look of annoyance etched across her perfectly made up face. She is fumbling with the back of her flower shaped earring, trying to fix it into place, though her glare burns harshly into Beca, and Beca finds that she cannot ignore it.

“Nothing, I just…” Beca trails off, head shaking briefly.

“You just what, Bec?”

“Nothing.” Beca hears herself saying—grumbling, really. The volume of her voice lowers as she shifts her gaze back toward her computer screen. “Guess it’s still not the time.”

Beca thinks that Chloe hears her. She thinks that, in spite of the quieter tone, her mumbling had been loud enough for Chloe to hear. But it seems that Chloe opts to turn a blind eye—ear?—and instead tears her stare from the side of Beca’s face, turning her focus to packing everything she needs into her purse.

It’s stupid really, the way she’s acting. Beca knows it is. It’s almost like it comes from nowhere, like everything is okay one minute, like she has accepted that the ‘right time’ just hasn’t come yet, then suddenly she’s making a big deal about it the next. It’s just that, up until now, Beca hasn’t had to think so deeply into she and Chloe’s situation. It hasn’t felt so urgent before. But now Chloe is fastening the straps of her heels and heading out of their apartment looking the way she does, and maybe Beca suddenly feels a little threatened. In fact, there is no maybe about it.

“You know what?” Chloe pauses by the door, fingers gripping the handle. She is not looking Beca’s way, not at first, though she turns her body in time to meet Beca’s questioning gaze. Beca notices a look she would liken to hurt in Chloe’s eyes. “That little comment you just made, the one about how it’s not the right time… That’s so unfair, Beca.”

All Beca can really do in response is stare. Her dark brows tug together, nose wrinkling in confusion. It is either her silence or the expression on her face that prompts Chloe to continue, and it is perhaps a conversation they should’ve had before now. Long before now, in fact.

“If you care about someone, if you want something meaningful, you put in the work.”

“Meaningful?” Beca hears herself say, the word followed by something of a sarcastic scoff. “Tinder is meaningful now?”

Chloe’s jaw clenches tightly, and the way she shakes her head causes the ends of her hair to brush delicately along her shoulders in a way that catches Beca’s focus. Though, now is not the time for her to be checking Chloe out. It is perhaps the worst time, all things considered.

“Yeah, actually, it is,” Chloe nods. “Sure, it’s a dating app. But this guy I’m going out with, he asked me on a date. We talked and we started to get to know each other. He didn’t break up with his boyfriend and then kiss me on our couch because he was upset.”

Evidently, Chloe has been holding this in for a while—four months, to be exact—because there is a certain amount of venom behind her words, a level of hurt only dampened by the sheer urgency of everything she is saying.

Beca wants to interject, to shoot back with something snarky, but she stops herself from doing so, because she knows where Chloe is coming from. No, Beca did not kiss Chloe just because she was upset. Truthfully, it had been a long time coming, though the timing had been poor, and Beca can understand why Chloe feels the way she does, why she reacted the way she did.

So, rather than argue, rather than fight the way she will later realize that she maybe should’ve, Beca simply drops her gaze toward her lap, shoulder shrugging in defeat. “Alright. Enjoy your date,” she says in a smaller voice, and Beca knows that she deserves the slam of the door that follows Chloe’s exit.

**_January 22nd — Evening._ **

For a little while, Beca allows herself some time to reflect.

She thinks about her actions over the last couple hours, and she _knows_ they were.. well, for lack of a better word, _stupid_. Chloe is allowed to be happy. Chloe deserves to be happy. In fact, if anybody in this world deserves happiness, it is Chloe Beale, Beca believes that wholeheartedly. Does she like the idea of Chloe on a date? No, decidedly not, but Beca also does not want to be the person who potentially harms Chloe’s happiness. She realizes that it had been unfair of her to dampen Chloe’s mood before what could potentially be a big evening for her, and as Beca’s gaze drifts toward her phone, she knows that a little damage control is important.

**Beca**  
_Hey. Chlo, look. I’m really sorry, that was a really crappy reaction on my part. The dress you picked was perfect, and you looked really pretty. I hope your date goes well. Make sure you call me if anything seems off._

**Chloe**  
_Thank you._

Chloe’s simple response comes through quickly, and while Beca is still not happy with the way the evening has transpired thus far, she decides that their brief text message exchange is enough for now. She does want Chloe to enjoy herself, she really does, so Beca decides to keep herself distracted, and perhaps go in search of a little generic happiness herself.

Is pursuing that happiness through the means of a dating app the healthiest option? No, probably not. But, Beca is only human, and Tinder is apparently good enough for Chloe (and half of the rest of the population), so maybe she should check it out, too.

However, as Beca scrolls through her phone’s photo library—dating profiles are essentially a catalog of ‘look how hot I am before you decide whether you want to know anything about my personality or not’, right?—she realizes she definitely does not take enough selfies. She has plenty of pictures with friends; pictures with Chloe, Amy, people from work, the Bellas, etc. But selfies? They are few and far between. Presumably, Tinder is more of a selfie trove than anything else, so despite the fact that it is maybe the lamest way she could think of spending her evening, Beca decides it is time to add to her sparse collection.

Perhaps the way she currently looks—hair pulled back into a somewhat unruly ponytail, the dark circles beneath her eyes a dead giveaway of just how draining her fast-paced New York lifestyle is—is not the most desirable selfie aesthetic, so Beca proceeds to peel herself from she and Chloe’s bed and, for the second time this evening, perform a little damage control.

The effort she puts into curling her hair is perhaps a little lackluster, and honestly, the same can be said for her makeup. However, Beca is soon satisfied with the way she looks—it is only for the sake of a couple of pictures, anyway—and finds herself positioned in front of the full-length mirror, phone in hand and camera application open. She snaps a couple quick pictures, though frowns as she scans over them scrutinizingly, head shaking softly.

“Dude, what are you even doing?” Beca mumbles quietly to herself, admittedly judging her own actions. It makes sense really, she tends to judge other people for doing this. Regardless, she is about to make a second attempt, though the incoming iMessage banner up top of her screen catches her eye, and Beca’s brow raises as she reads over the message.

**Chloe**  
_He didn’t show._

“Seriously?” Beca mutters under her breath, instantly rereading the message. “Why would anyone stand her up…”

**Beca**  
_What? Maybe he’s just running late._

**Chloe**  
_By 40 minutes?_

It is conflicting, the feeling Beca is suddenly overcome with. Although she wants Chloe to be happy, the selfish part of her cannot help but see some kind of sign in all of this. Not that Beca is sure she really believes in signs from the universe… But, if they do exist, something within her tells her that this just may be one. It is without thought that she drifts away from the mirror and toward the rack of clothing that separates she and Chloe’s makeshift bedroom from the main living area.

 _Don’t leave yet,_ she finds herself typing—she is holding the phone with one hand, the other thumbing quickly through clothing options— _Maybe he’ll show. Give him a little more time._

**_January 22nd — Later evening._ **

As Beca steps a heeled foot out from the open train doors, she realizes that she has perhaps acted without proper thought up until now. The skirt of her short red dress blows gently in the evening breeze, and the reality of her admittedly not very well thought out plan hits her. In fact, it crashes against her in harsh waves the closer she gets to the restaurant, and there is a part of Beca—a very strong, prominent part of her—telling her that this is crazy, that she should turn back around and head back home. In reality, Chloe has probably left by now anyway. She is likely headed home, while Beca makes her way with inexplicable intent toward the restaurant where Chloe had waited for her failed date.

The mental image, the one of Chloe waiting around to ultimately be met with disappointment, causes Beca’s chest to tighten, her heart to break just a little bit. It may be that feeling that forces her to continue moving forward, until she finds herself out of the cold New York evening air and inside Chloe’s favorite Japanese restaurant, hasty gaze scanning the occupied tables.

At first, she doesn’t see who she is looking for. Normally, when Beca walks into a room, that flash of red hair is the first thing she sees, whether she is actively looking for it or not. It is like her focus is always just pulled in so forcefully by Chloe Beale, and perhaps that is something Beca should’ve put a little more stock into before now. Before September, even.

It is the sound of a voice, unmistakably Chloe’s, that finally catches Beca’s attention.

“Beca?”

It’s that look on Chloe’s face, that gentle, almost bashful smile, that causes Beca’s teeth to sink softly into her lower lip once her gaze finally falls on her, and that ultimately tugs a smile to her own face in response. It is the fuel she needs for her feet to begin carrying her toward Chloe’s table, and for any reservations she has been holding in to suddenly melt away under the familiarity of Chloe’s bright blue gaze.

“What are you doing here?” Chloe asks once Beca is close enough for them to converse without either having to yell. The look on Chloe’s face, despite the subtle hint of confusion, tells Beca that she already knows the answer.

Beca has come too far to go back now, perhaps in more ways than one. So, she doesn’t stop until she has reached Chloe’s table, fingers wrapping loosely around the back of the free chair.

“You wanted a date tonight, right?” Beca asks, her smile having softened to more of a bashful one, one that matches Chloe’s. Where her confidence is coming from, she truly does not know, but she decides to go with it, decides to ride the high she is currently experiencing. The high that is caused by the drug that is Chloe Beale. “Mind if I join you?”

While Chloe glances downward briefly, and Beca suddenly forgets for a moment how to breathe, she notices that Chloe is smiling. It is a smile that Beca has seen before, but that Chloe has usually wiped from her face before Beca gets the chance to really analyze it. Her gaze moves slowly upward, and Beca dares herself to breathe again once she sees the small shake of Chloe’s head.

“No,” Chloe says in a soft voice, one that Beca can tell is laced with sincerity, “I definitely do not mind.”

None of this had been previously rehearsed. Beca had decided to act on adrenaline, and had spent the ride out here trying to talk herself into not turning around, so she has not thought into what she will actually say. In turn, this means that she has no expectations, but if she did, Chloe actually allowing her to join her exceeds them, and Beca quickly nods her head, before pulling out the seat and sitting herself comfortably down. She has pictured this before, the mental image of herself seated across from Chloe Beale at a dinner that is not just a meal shared between friends. But Beca could’ve never predicted this feeling. She has to take a moment to revel in it, to really allow it to process.

There is a silence to begin with, one that Beca spends entirely in her head, but by the time she brings her gaze up to fixate on Chloe, she sees the way Chloe is staring back at her, takes note of the expression on her face. It is a mixture of subtle amusement, elation, and finally, something Beca can only perceive as entirely bashful.

“I have to tell you something,” Chloe says into their brief—though surprisingly not awkward—silence. Beca simply tilts her head slightly, watching as Chloe picks up her phone from the table. It is with only slight hesitation that Chloe slides it toward her, the screen lit up with a Tinder message thread between she and somebody named Ben (presumably her failed date for the evening).

Beca’s neatly penciled brows tug together, gaze shifting between the screen and Chloe’s face. Chloe nods her head softly, silently urging her to read.

**Chloe**  
_Hey, I’m so sorry to do this so last minute, but I’m not gonna be able to make it tonight._

**Ben**  
_Wow, standing me up already? 😜_

**Chloe**  
_LOL, no! It’s not that. I just don’t feel great. I really am sorry._

**Ben**  
_Fair. Reschedule?_

**Chloe**  
_I’ll let you know._

It takes a moment for Beca to understand what is going on. At first, she is confused, though as she glances up toward Chloe again, sees the way pearly teeth are rested over her bottom lip, Beca’s expression of confusion is overtaken by a small, amused smile instead.

“Right…” Beca finally nods, a quiet chuckle falling from her painted lips. “So, that means..?”

“Maybe it’s the right time, Bec,” Chloe says softly. The dim lighting surrounding them causes a specific kind of sparkle in Chloe’s eyes, one that has Beca practically melting. She hasn’t been paying attention to her heart rate thus far, but it has certainly picked up. It is a distinct feeling that only Chloe can cause.

There is a subtle hint of pink spreading across Beca’s otherwise pale cheeks as she allows the gravity of the situation to pull her in, lets the reality of everything settle. Her voice is soft as she speaks, and despite the hint of a teasing tone, she cannot help but feel excited. Proud, in fact. Proud that Chloe knew this would happen, that Chloe _wanted_ this to happen all along.

“So you just knew I would come out here, huh?” Beca questions, everything within her relaxing with realization. She reaches across the table to take Chloe’s wine glass, and while Chloe watches her curiously, she does not stop her. In fact, she grins as Beca lifts the glass up to her lips, taking a small sip of liquid courage.

“No,” Chloe shakes her head, her own hand reaching across the table to take her phone back. There is a spare wine glass on the table, so Chloe picks it up in passing and contentedly grasps at the opened wine bottle, too. She locks her phone screen, before slipping the device into her purse and out of their way. No distractions between the two of them. Her gaze fixes on the wine she has begun to pour for herself, though Beca sees the way her eyes flicker upward, stare meeting so easily with Beca’s, so familiarly. “But I was hoping so.”


End file.
